THE  1  .IBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CALIFORNIA 


LOS  ANGE  JES 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  MRS.  DORR 


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women  of  the  world.  She  brings  us  sweet  and  tender 
messages  which  it  is  genuine  pleasure  to  read  and  re 
member.  —  The  Interior. 

afternoon 

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Mrs.  Dorr  writes  with  pleasant  enthusiasm  of  the  Ber 
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CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  PUBLISHERS. 


AFTERGLOW 


AFTERGLOW 


LATER  POEMS 


BY 


JULIA  C.  R.  DORR 


•:\T 1  m 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1900 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


TO    S.    M.    D. 


If  love  could  wing  its  flight 
To  yon  far  realm  of  light, 
Fain  would  I  bring  to  you, 
O  tender  heart  and  true, 
These  spoils  of  later  years, 
Half  sunshine  and  half  tears  ! 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INCONSISTENCY       ' 3 

WHOM  THE  GODS  LOVE 5 

In     HUSH  !      .  7 

CO 

>-     THY  SONGS  AND  MINE                        .  8 

CC 

or      A  POET'S  WIFE                                         .                .  o 
E 

"  Do  THEY  MEASURE  TIME  WHERE  THOU  ART?  "  10 

THE  WISE  MEN 1 1 

"10      A  KNIGHT-ERRANT 12 

CM 

g  THE  COUNTERSIGN 13 

THE  DOWER 14 

SUPPLICATION 15 

o  THE  COMRADES 18 

AN  AFTERTHOUGHT 22 

-1      THE  SANCTUARY  LAMP 25 

ui 

: :      AFTER  THE  MAGNIFICAT 31 

<     THREE  CROSSES 34 

ON  THE  HEIGHT 37 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

WHEN  SPENSER  DIED 39 

LOOKING  TOWARD  SPAIN 42 

INSTALLATION  HYMN 44 

THE  SACRAMENTAL  HYMN 46 

LESSONS  TWAIN 48 

OUTLIVED 49 

JACQUES  AND  SUZETTE 51 

AT  BAR  HARBOR 55 

HUBERT  DE  BURGH 56 

CHRISTIANA 59 

THE  CHAMBER 61 

"!N  MANUS  TUAS,  DOMINE!  "    ....  64 
THE  CITY  CALLED  CHU  .        .        .     '  .        .        .66 

THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  THE  HEMLOCK         .        .  68 
FOR  A  CHRISTENING        .        .        .        .        .        .72 

THE  DREAM-BEARER 75 

THE  SECRET  CHAMBER 77 

"  OUT  OF  THE  SILENCE,  SPEAK  ! "              .        .  79 

AFTER  MANY  DAYS  .  82 


AFTERGLOW 


LATER   POEMS 


INCONSISTENCY 


WHEN  dawns  some  day  fairer  than  other  days, 
And  all  the  mountain  passes  are  aglow 
With  its  supernal  splendor,  and  the  low, 
Dim  valleys  sleeping  in  the  woodland  ways 
Waken  to  glorious  life  at  morn's  first  rays, — 

When  happy  birds  sing,  and  all  winds  that  blow, 
Laden  with  seeds  of  blessing  come  and  go, 
And  earth  no  secret  of  her  woe  betrays, — 
Then,  O  beloved,  when  my  heart  is  light 
And  all  is  well  with  me,  and  pain  and  care 

Have  vanished  as  a  dream  of  last  year's  rose 
Fades  with  the  passing  of  a  summer  night, 
My  soul  in  ecstasy  of  love  and  prayer 

Cries :  "  God,  I  thank  thee  that  he  knows,  he 
knows!" 

3 


INCONSIS7ENC  Y 


II 

But  on  some  other  day,  when  skies  unroll 

Their  storm-cloud  banners  only,  and  the  beat 
Of  the  wild  tempest  is  like  hurrying  feet 

That  stay  not,  halt  not,  till  they  reach  the  goal ; 

When  doubt  and  dread  assail  my  fainting  soul, 
And,  when  I  fain  God's  mercy  would  entreat, 
Even  the  prayers  my  trembling  lips  repeat 

Seem  like  the  clamor  of  harsh  bells  that  toll — 

Then,  thinking  of  thee  in  some  far,  dim  realm, — 
Dim  to  our  senses,  glorious  to  thine, — 
Where  never  once  a  cruel  wind  doth  blow, 

Nor  storm,  nor  stress,  come  near  thee  to  o'erwhelm, 
I  lift  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills  divine, 

And  cry :  "  Thank  God,  thank  God,  he  does  not 
know!" 


WHOM    THE    GODS   LOVE 


"  WHOM  the  Gods  love  die  young  "?     Nay,  rather  say 
With  bated  breath,  "  Whom  the  Gods  love  die 

old!" 

Shall  the  morn  pale  ere  it  hath  coined  its  gold? 
The  sun  go  down  while  yet  it  is  full  day  ? 
The  statue  sleep  unmoulded  in  the  clay? 

The  parchment  crumble  ere  it  is  unrolled? 
The  story  end  with  half  the  tale  untold? 
The  song  drop  mute  and  breathless  by  the  way?* 
Oh,  weep  for  Adonais  when  he  dies 

With  all  youth's  lofty  promise  unfulfilled, 

Its  splendor  lost  in  sudden  drear  eclipse! 
With  love  unlived  and  dreams  half  dreamed  he  lies, 
All  the  red  wine  from  life's  gold  chalice  spilled 
Ere  its  bright  brim  hath  touched  his  eager  lips! 
5 


WHOM   THE    CODS  LOVE 


II 

Whom  the  Gods  love  die  old !      O  life,  dear  life, 
Let  the  old  sing  thy  praises,  for  they  know 
How  year  by  year  the  summers  come  and  go, 

Each  with  its  own  abounding  sweetness  rife! 

They  know,  though  frosts  be  cruel  as  the  knife, 

Yet  with  each  June  the  perfect  rose  shall  blow, 
And  daisies  blossom  and  the  green  grass  grow, 

Triumphant  still,  unvexed  by  storm  or  strife. 

They  know  that  night  more  splendid  is  than  day ; 
That  sunset  skies  flame  in  the  gathering  dark, 
And  the  deep  waters  change  to  molten  gold ; 

They  know  that  Autumn  richer  is  than  May ; 
They  hear  the  night-birds  singing  like  the  lark — 
Ah,  life,  sweet  life,  whom  the  Gods  love  die  old! 


HUSH! 

OH,  hush  thee,  Earth!    Fold  thou  thy  weary  palms! 
The  sunset  glory  fadeth  in  the  west ; 
The  purple  splendor  leaves  the  mountain's  crest ; 
Gray  twilight  comes  as  one  who  beareth  alms, 
Darkness  and  silence  and  delicious  calms. 

Take  thou  the  gift,  O  Earth !  on  Night's  soft  breast 
Lay  thy  tired  head  and  sink  to  dreamless  rest, 
Lulled  by  the  music  of  her  evening  psalms. 
Cool  darkness,  silence,  and  the  holy  stars, 
Long  shadows  when  the  pale  moon  soars  on 

high, 

One  far,  lone  night-bird  singing  from  the  hill, 
And  utter  rest  from  Day's  discordant  jars ; 
O  soul  of  mine!  when  the  long  night  draws 

nigh 
Will  such  deep  peace  thine  inmost  being  fill? 


THY   SONGS   AND    MINE 

SING  thou  my  songs  for  me  when  I  am  dead! 
Soul  of  my  soul,  some  day  thou  wilt  awake 
To  see  the  morning  on  the  hilltops  break, 

And  the  far  summits  flame  with  rosy  red — 

But  I  shall  wake  not,  though  above  my  head 

Armies  should  thunder ;  nor  for  Love's  sweet  sake, 
Though  he  the  tenderest  pilgrimage  should  make 

Where  I  am  lying  in  my  grassy  bed. 

I  shall  be  silent,  with  my  song  half  sung ; 
I  shall  be  dumb,  with  half  the  story  told ; 
I  shall  be  mute,  leaving  the  half  unsaid. 

Take  thou  the  harp  ere  yet  it  be  unstrung — 
Wake  thou  the  lyre  ere  yet  its  chords  be  cold — 
Sing  thou  my  songs,  and  thine,  when  I  am  dead ! 


A   POET'S   WIFE 

TO    L.    A. 

WHEN  first  I  saw  thy  face,  I  found  thee  fair, 
Dainty  and  fragrant  as  a  perfect  rose 
That  in  some  sweet,  secluded  garden  grows. 
Thou  didst  remind  me  of  a  jewel  rare 
Most  fitly  set ;  a  pearl  a  king  might  wear 

When,  in  high  banquet-halls  at  daylight's  close, 
On  blazoned  walls  a  softened  splendor  glows, 
And  pulsing  music  thrills  the  enchanted  air. 
Again  we  met,  one  sullen  wintry  day ; 

We  talked  of  life  and  love,  of  sorrow's  night, 

Of  death's  dark  why  and  wherefore,  till  thine  eyes 
Grew  deep  with  thought  and  prayer.     Then  said  I, 

"Nay! 
Why  should  thy  rare  bard  mourn  the  Goddess' 

flight? 
This  muse  shall  lure  him  to  song's  upper  skies!" 


"DO   THEY   MEASURE   TIME   WHERE 
THOU   ART?" 

Do  they  measure  time  where  them  art?     Dost  thou 
know 

How  the  immutable,  relentless  years, 

Delaying  not  for  human  hopes  or  fears, 
In  long  processionals  still  come  and  go? 
When,  as  of  old,  thy  summer  roses  blow, 

Art  thou  aware,  thou  who  art  done  with  tears? 

O  blessed  habitant  of  other  spheres, 
Takest  thou  heed  of  Earth's  hoar-frost  and  snow? 
We  count  the  years,  and  tell  them,  one  by  one, 
Since  thy  feet  trod  the  path  where  silence  is ; 

How  oft  the  harvest  moon  has  waned !  we  say. 
Dost  thou  remember  when  thy  rest  was  won? 
Or  art  thou  like  to  the  high  Gods  in  this, 

That  unto  thee  a  year  is  but  a  day? 


YE  happy  stars,  that  o'er  the  desert  wold 
Saw  Jasper,  Melchior,  and  Balthazar 

Bearing  rich  gifts  and  offerings  from  afar 
(Sweet  Orient  spices,  gems,  and  burning   gold) 
To  Bethlehem's  manger,  where  the  Child  foretold 

By  seer  and  prophet  slept  beneath  his  star,— 

Fill  with  glad  song  the  blue  depths  where  ye  are, 
Singing  as  sang  the  morning  stars  of  old! 
Lo!  once  again  the  wise  men  from  the  East, 

Crossing  the  desert  and  the  rolling  main 

And  the  high  mountains,  bid  their  eyes  behold 
The  glory  of  the  Lord !      To  his  great  feast 

Thronging  they  press,  the  eager,  mystic  train, 
Giving  and  taking  wine  and  oil  untold! 


A    KNIGHT-ERRANT 

LET  me  not  weep !      Thou  wert  as  true  a  knight 
As  ever  yet  laid  his  proud  lance  in  rest 
For  tilt  or  tournament,  or  wore  his  crest 

Of  blazoned  splendor  in  the  thickest  fight! 

When  trumpets  blared,  in  all  thine  armor  dight, 
Forth  didst  thou  fare  to  do  thy  lord's  behest, 
Nor  shrank  from  fiercest  field,  nor  hardest  quest, 

Keeping  his  banner  ever  in  thy  sight. 

If  now  thy  liege  hath  further  need  of  thee 
In  the  high  courts  of  some  wide  realm  afar, 
Where  in  fair  state  his  best  and  noblest  are, 

Shall  I  bewail  thee  with  my  woman's  tears? 
Nay!    Go  thou  on  at  his  most  wise  decree, 

And  dwell  triumphant  in  those  higher  spheres! 


12 


THE    COUNTERSIGN 

How  shall  I  know  thee  when  we  two  shall  meet 
In  the  vast  spaces  where  the  dead  abide? 
Never  on  earth  shall  we  stand  side  by  side. 

I  have  not  heard  thy  voice,  nor  the  quick  beat 

Of  thy  glad  footsteps  in  the  hurrying  street ; 
Nor  have  I  seen  thy  face ;  nor,  in  the  wide, 
Deep  silences  where  prayer  is  justified, 

Have  we  two  knelt  God's  dear  love  to  entreat. 

Then  by  what  strange,  mysterious  countersign, 

What  mystic  shibboleth,  will  thy  strong  soul 

Recognize  mine  in  that  transcendent  hour 

When,  face  to  face  on  some  fair  mount  divine, 
We  see  far  off  the  mighty  planets  roll, 

Love  and  immortal  life  our  deathless  dower? 


THE    DOWER 

THE  whole  wide  earth,  O  poet,  is  thy  dower i 
Claim  thou  its  affluence  as  by  right  divine. 
For  thee  suns  rise  and  set,  and  clear  stars  shine, 
Old  ocean  rolls,  and  far  heights  heavenward  tower. 
The  thrush  and  nightingale,  and  every  flower 
Of  every  clime  and  every  age,  are  thine ; 
All  Gods  shall  fill  thy  golden  cup  with  wine, 
All  prophets  pledge  thee  in  the  uplifted  hour! 
Thine  are  the  mysteries  of  life  and  death : 
All  loves,  all  joys,  all  passion,  and  all  pain, 
Temptations  shared  not,  sins  thou  hast  not 

known, 

False  hopes,  frail  raptures  trembling  at  a  breath, 
The  hero's  ecstasy,  the  martyr's  gain, 

The  high  prayer  soaring  to  the  Great  White 
Throne! 


SUPPLICATION 

FORSAKE  me  not,  O  Light  of  many  days! 

Low  sinks  the  westering  sun ; 

An  amethystine  haze 
Flushes  with  purple  all  the  upland  ways ; 
The  shadows  lengthen  in  the  twilight  glow, 
And  well  I  know 

That  day  is  almost  done! 

Thou  whom  I  worshipped  when  my  life  was  new, 

Say  not  that  we  must  part ! 

I  have  been  leal  and  true, 
Loving  thee  better  as  the  swift  years  flew, 
With  such  pure  homage  that  nor  time  nor  change 
Could  e'er  estrange 

From  thee  my  constant  heart. 

15 


16  SUPPLICATION 

When  I  was  but  a  child  I  heard  thy  voice, 

And  followed  thee  afar 

In  humble,  happy  choice, 
Content  in  this  far  following  to  rejoice; 
Didst  thou  but  whisper,  heaven  and  earth  grew  bright 
With  holy  light, 

Clearer  than  sun  or  star. 

I  dared  not  kiss  thy  garment's  hem,  nor  lay 

One  pale  flower  at  thy  feet-: 

It  was  enough  to  stray 
In  a  child's  dream  of  thee  by  night,  by  day, 
In  tremulous  ecstasy  to  feel  thee  near, 
And  half  in  fear, 

Half  joy,  thy  coming  greet. 

For  thou  wert  one  with  nature.     All  things  fair 

Spoke  to  my  soul  of  thee : 

The  azure  depths  of  air, 

Sunrise,  and  starbeam,  and  the  moonlight  rare, 
Splendor  of  summer,  winter's  frost  and  snow, 
Autumn's  rich  glow, 

Bird,  river,  flower,  and  tree. 


SUPPLICA  TION  1 7 

Thou  wert  in  love's  first  whisper,  and  the  slow 

Thrill  of  its  dying  kiss ; 

In  the  strong  ebb  and  flow 
Of  the  resistless  tides  of  joy  and  woe ; 
In  life's  supremest  hour  thou  hadst  a  share, 
Its  stress  of  prayer, 

Its  rapturous  trance  of  bliss! 

Leave  me  not  now  when  the  long  shadows  fall 

Athwart  the  sunset  bars ; 

Hold  thou  my  soul  in  thrall 
Till  it  shall  answer  to  a  mightier  call ; 
Remain  thou  with  me  till  the  holy  night 
Puts  out  the  light — 

And  kindles  all  the  stars! 


THE   COMRADES 

THE    SOUL    TO    THE    BODY 

COMRADE,  art  thou  weary? 

Hath  the  way  been  long? 
Dost  thou  faint  and  falter — 

Thou,  who  wert  so  strong? 

Ah,  I  well  remember 

How,  when  life  was  young, 
Forth  we  fared  together, 

Glad  of  heart  and  tongue. 

Then  no  height  appalled  thee ; 

Thou  didst  mount  and  sing 
With  the  joyous  ardor 

Of  a  bird  on  wing! 

18 


THE   COMRADES  19 

Once  thou  wert  the  stronger — 

Led  me  by  thy  will ; 
I  obeyed  thy  mandates, 

Gloried  in  thy  skill; 

Owed  thee  much,  and  loved  thee, 

Half  the  joy  of  living 
(Comrade,  dost  thou  hear  me?) 

Hath  been  of  thy  giving. 

Think  what  thou  has  brought  me! 

All  that  eye  hath  seen — 
Glow  of  dawn  and  sunset ; 

Starlight's  silver  sheen ; 

All  the  pomp  and  splendor 

Of  the  summer  day ; 
Gleam  of  sparkling  waters 

Leaping  in  their  play ; 

Night  and  storm  and  darkness ; 

Mountains  high  and  hoar ; 
Ocean  billows  sweeping 

On  from  shore  to  shore! 


20  THE   COMRADES 

Think  of  what  I  owe  thee! 

Fragrance  of  the  rose, 
Breath  of  odorous  lily 

And  each  flower  that  blows ; 

Song  of  thrush  and  veery 
Deep  in  woodland  bowers ; 

Chime  of  sweet  bells  pealing 
From  cathedral  towers ; 

Love's  most  dear  caresses, 
Touch  of  lip  and  cheek, 

Throb  of  heart  revealing 
What  no  tongue  can  speak! 

Lifelong  friend  and  comrade, 
Twin-born  brother,  thou, 

Think  how  thou  hast  served  me- 
Let  me  serve  thee  now! 

Let  my  strength  uphold  thee 
As  thine  own  strength  fails, 

As  the  way  grows  steeper 
And  the  night  prevails. 


THE    COMRADES  21 

Cheer  thee,  cheer  thee,  comrade! 

Drink  thou  of  my  wine ; 
Lo!  the  cup  I  bring  thee 

Holds  a  draught  divine! 


AN  AFTERTHOUGHT 

THE    BODY    TO    THE    SOUL 

TOGETHER  still,  old  comrade — thou  and  I! 

From  out  the  dark,  drear  places, 

The  awful,  rayless  spaces, 
Where  only  storms  and  dreadful  shapes  swept  by, 

We  have  come  forth  again 

Into  the  world  of  men, 
Have  seen  the  darkness  vanish,  and  the  day 
Drive  night  away! 

Art  thou  not  glad?     Is  it  not  good  to  be 

Alive  on  this  green  earth, 

This  realm  of  home  and  hearth? 
Is  it  not  good  for  thee  as  well  as  me? 

Oh,  earth  is  warm  and  dear ; 

Its  touch  is  close  and  near ; 
And  the  unknown  is  cold  and  dim,  and  far 
As  any  star! 

22 


AN  AFTERTHOUGHT  23 

Speak  thou,  O  soul!      Art  thou  not  glad  to-day 

That  we  are  still  together 

In  the  clear  summer  weather? 
Can  see  the  shadows  on  the  mountains  play, 

The  glory  of  the  trees, 

The  splendor  of  the  seas, 
The  pomp  of  dawn  and  sunset,  and  the  fair 
Blue  fields  of  air? 

Hark,  how  the  birds  are  singing!  and  I  hear 

From  shrub  and  flower  and  tree 

The  humming  of  the  bee, 
Nature's  melodious  chanting  soft  and  clear, 

The  breath  of  winds  that  pass 

Over  the  bending  grass, 
Childhood's  blithe  laughter,  and  the  sweet   • 
Fall  of  its  feet! 

Thank  God!  thank  God!    Comrade,  rejoice  with  me 

In  that  I  still  am  here 

Where  life  and  love  are  dear, 
And  as  of  old  clasp  loyal  hands  with  thee! 


24  AN  AFTERTHOUGHT 

And  yet — and  yet — 
I  cannot  quite  forget 

That  thou  didst  fail  me  in  mine  hour  of  need, 
Nor  gave  me  heed! 

Ah,  whither  didst  thou  flee  what  time  I  lay 

In  the  unfathomed  dark  ? 

Soul,  didst  thou  find  an  ark 
Secure  and  safe  until  the  dawn  of  day, 

Forgetting  thou  hadst  sworn 

An  oath  not  yet  outworn, 

To  stay  me  with  thy  strength,  to  bring  me  wine 
From  hills  divine? 

But — I  forgive  thee!      It  may  be  that  thou, 

Even  as  I,  wert  bound 

Beyond  all  ken,  or  sound, 
Or  faintest  memory  of  earthly  vow. 

So,  hand  in  hand,  old  friend, 

Until  the  path  shall  end, 
We  will  fare  on  together,  thou  and  I, 
Counting  the  stars  on  high! 


THE   SANCTUARY    LAMP 

THUS  spake  the  lady  abbess,  as  the  nuns 

Passed,  two  by  two,  through  the  wide  cloister  gate 

Whereon  were  carven  figures  of  dead  saints 

And  kneeling  women  bearing  in  their  hands 

Ascension  lilies :  "  Go  ye  one  and  all 

To  the  confessional,  and  shrive  yourselves ; 

Then  kneel  at  the  high  altar,  and  pray  ye 

For  one  who  lieth  very  near  to  death." 

Then  the  pale  nuns,  with  sudden,  swift  accord, 

Made  each  the  mystic  token  of  the  cross, 

And  passed  on  silently,  save  one — the  last, 

Who  walked  alone,  the  eldest  of  the  house. 

"  Is  it  the  novice?  "  said  she,  speaking  low. 

"Let  others  pray!  I  will  keep  watch  with  thee." 

25 


26  THE  SANCTUARY  LAMP 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  the  novice.     She  does  well," 

The  abbess  made  hushed  answer;  "come  with  me." 

Down  the  long  corridor  she  swept  in  haste, 

Her  robe  a  trailing  shadow,  her  dark  veil 

Floating  behind  her,  and  her  snowy  band- 

A  white  flame  on  her  forehead,  till  she  paused 

At  a  low  door  set  in  the  eastern  wall ; 

Then  turned  and  whispered :  "  She  hath  come  at  last, 

Our  great  Queen  Berengaria,  to  die 

In  the  fair  abbey  she  hath  builded  well. 

Enter,  but  speak  not,  for  mayhap  she  sleeps." 

The  white,  hushed  room  was  like  a  temple  dim 
With  floating  incense ;  for  the  lamp  burnt  low, 
And  through  the  latticed  casement  softly  stole 
The  night  wind  heavy  with  the  fragrant  breath 
Of  rose  and  violet.     On  a  low  couch 
Lay  the  fair  woman  Cceur  de  Lion  loved, 
And  all  the  golden  splendor  of  her  hair, 
Unbound,  unbraided,  rippled  to  the  floor 
Like  waves  of  sunshine  in  a  shady  glen ; 
And  all  her  eyes'  blue  splendor  lit  the  place, 


27 

Mocking  the  flame  that  burnt  upon  her  cheek. 
"Ah!  never  death  wore  such  fair  guise  before, 
If  this  be  death,"  Assunta  said,  and  wept ; 
Yet  in  her  heart  believed  not  it  was  death, 
So  like  it  seemed  to  flush  of  youth  and  health. 
But  the  wise  abbess  knew,  for  she  had  gone 
With  many  a  one  to  the  extremest  verge 
Of  the  dark  vale  where  soul  and  body  part. 
Swiftly  she  crossed  the  chamber,  and  knelt  down 
To  touch  the  hot  lips  of  the  queen  with  wine ; 
Then  drew  Assunta  nearer,  whispering:   "Look! 
Her  poor  wits  wander!      She  would  braid  her  hair 
As  for  a  festival."     For  in  and  out 
Through  the  long,  golden  meshes  of  her  hair 
Her  trembling  fingers  strayed  continuously, 
Weaving  the  shining  strands. 

"  Nay,  my  sweet  Queen," 
The  abbess  said,  stilling  the  restless  hands, 
"  I  am  your  tire-woman!      Be  it  mine 
To  bind  these  heavy  tresses.     Rest,  dear  heart." 
But  Berengaria  smiled.     "  My  wits  stray  not, 
Dear  Mother  Abbess.     Gather  you  my  hair 


28  THE  SANCTUARY  LAMP 

In  one  thick  coil — thus — and  lay  the  rope 
Here  in  my  hand.     Now  from  my  casket  there 
Reach  me  the  jewelled  blade  King  Richard  wore 
What  time  he  fought  with  Saladin  and  drove 
Him  out  from  Ascalon.     He  gave  it  me, 
With  jest  and  laughter,  one  short  hour  before 
Proud  Fanuelle  fell — slain  by  the  Saracens." 
Then,  lifting  her  right  arm,  with  one  swift  stroke 
She  severed  the  bright  tresses,  and  fell  back 
Unnerved,  and  pallid  as  a  wan,  white  ghost 
That  walks  at  midnight. 

When  her  heart  once  more 
Sent  the  red  current  tingling  through  her  veins, 
Again  she  spake :  "  Dear  Abbess,  give  me  leave 
For  this  one  night  to  rule  thy  flock  and  thee! 
Go  thou,  Assunta,  and  with  no  delay 
Bring  thou  twelve  sisters  hither — they  who  are 
Of  all  your  house  most  light  and  deft  of  touch. 
Swiftest  to  learn  and  do." 

And  soon  the  nuns 
Entered  the  chamber  as  it  were  a  shrine, 


THE  SANCTUARY  LAMP  29 

Crossing  themselves  and  kneeling,  one  by  one. 
"  Do  me  this  grace,  my  sisters,"  said  the  queen. 
"  For  this  one  night  your  wonted  rest  forego, 
And  do  my  bidding.    Take  this  coil  of  hair — 
O  golden  waves  Richard  so  oft  hath  kissed !  — 
And  braid  twelve  slender  chains  as  soft  as  silk ; 
Then  braid  the  twelve  together." 

All  night  long 

The  pale  nuns  bent  them  to  their  lovely  task, 
Nor  spake  one  to  another.     Silently 
The  gold  chains  lengthened,  while  the  lamps  burnt 

clear, 

Making  still  radiance  in  the  quiet  r-oom  ; 
And  Berengaria  lay  with  folded  palms, 
Patiently  waiting.     Once  a  night-bird  sang 
Outside  the  casement,  and  she,  hearkening,  smiled. 
Just  as  the  dawn  was  breaking,  in  her  hands 
They  laid  a  shining  rope  as  soft  as  silk, 
But  strong  as  hempen  cable. 

"  List  ye  all," 

Then  said  the  queen,  as  round  her  slender  wrist 
She  wound  its  golden  length  caressingly, 


30  THE   SANCTUARY  LAMP 

Laid  it  against  her  cheek,  and  to  her  breast 
Pressed  it  with  two  white  hands  and  held  it  close. 
"  My  liege  lord  sleeps  in  Fontevraud,  and  there 
Above  his  tomb  hang  ye  a  jewelled  lamp 
Swinging  from  this  fair  chain — sole  part  of  me 
That  age  can  wither  not,  nor  time  deface! 
Let  the  lamp  burn  with  ever-during  flame. 
But  lay  my  body  in  the  abbey  here ; 
It  shall  not  lie  where  he  who  loved  it  so—" 

She  ceased,  and  reverently  the  kneeling  nuns 
Waited  the  moment  she  should  further  speak ; 
And  as  they  listened,  lo!  the  nightingale 
Wailed  faintly  in  the  distance,  and  a  lark 
Filled  the  new  day  with  ecstasy  of  song. 


AFTER   THE    MAGNIFICAT 

I,  MARY,  unto  whom  the  angel  bore, 

That  wondrous,  moonlit  night, 
On  wings  of  light, 

Message  no  mortal  ever  heard  before, 
Waking  me  from  the  sleep 
Of  maiden  dreams,  to  weep 

And  smile  in  startled  wonder — could  I  know 
It  meant  such  woe? 

"  Blessed  "  the  angel  called  me.     I  am  blest ! 

Let  no  man  dare  to  say 

I  am  not,  who  can  lay 
My  Holy  Child's  fair  head  upon  my  breast. 

He  is  mine  own,  mine  own! 

Let  my  lips  make  no  moan 
While  it  is  theirs  his  brow,  his  lips,  to  kiss, 
Like  this — like  this! 


30  THE  SANCTUARY  LAMP 

Laid  it  against  her  cheek,  and  to  her  breast 
Pressed  it  with  two  white  hands  and  held  it  close. 
"  My  liege  lord  sleeps  in  Fontevraud,  and  there 
Above  his  tomb  hang  ye  a  jewelled  lamp 
Swinging  from  this  fair  chain — sole  part  of  me 
That  age  can  wither  not,  nor  time  deface ! 
Let  the  lamp  burn  with  ever-during  flame. 
But  lay  my  body  in  the  abbey  here ; 
It  shall  not  lie  where  he  who  loved  it  so—" 

She  ceased,  and  reverently  the  kneeling  nuns 
Waited  the  moment  she  should  further  speak ; 
And  as  they  listened,  lo!  the  nightingale 
Wailed  faintly  in  the  distance,  and  a  lark 
Filled  the  new  day  with  ecstasy  of  song. 


AFTER   THE    MAGNIFICAT 

I,  MARY,  unto  whom  the  angel  bore, 

That  wondrous,  moonlit  night, 
On  wings  of  light, 

Message  no  mortal  ever  heard  before, 
Waking  me  from  the  sleep 
Of  maiden  dreams,  to  weep 

And  smile  in  startled  wonder — could  I  know 
It  meant  such  woe? 

"  Blessed  "  the  angel  called  me.     I  am  blest ! 
Let  no  man  dare  to  say 
I  am  not,  who  can  lay 

My  Holy  Child's  fair  head  upon  my  breast. 
He  is  mine  own,  mine  own! 
Let  my  lips  make  no  moan 
While  it  is  theirs  his  brow,  his  lips,  to  kiss, 
Like  this — like  this! 
31 


32  AFTER    THE  MAGNIFICAT 

And  yet — and  yet — at  first  I  did  not  know! 

I  was  as  others  are — 

A  child  with  life  afar, 
A  maiden  dreaming  in  the  dawn's  young  glow ; 

And  when  the  angel  came, 

Calling  me  by  my  name, 
And  told  me  what  should  be,  I  lifted  up 
My  hands  and  took  the  cup! 

Then  came  the  slow,  strange  hours  when  in  me  grew 

Sense  of  diviner  things. 

My  soul  found  wings, 
And  from  its  nest  on  mighty  pinions  flew ; 

Sang  the  exulting  song 

That  ages  shall  prolong — 
Sang  the  Magnificat,  and  did  not  shrink 
From  the  flood's  brink! 

But  now,  O  mothers,  I  have  grown  too  wise! 

What  say  the  prophets  old 

In  scriptures  manifold? 
A  dove  that  hath  no  nest  beneath  the  skies ; 


AFTER    THE  MAGNIFICAT  33 

A  lamb  to  slaughter  led ; 
A  king  with  uncrowned  head ; 
A  man  acquaint  with  grief — who  knows 
All  human  woes! 

Despised — rejected — and  that  sharper  word, 

Forsaken!    Let  me  be, 

Ye  who  would  comfort  me! 
That  word  strikes  deeper  than  a  two-edged  sword. 

My  little  one,  my  child, 

Forgive  me  that  I  smiled 

When  the  proud  Magi  brought  their  gifts  to  thee 
On  bended  knee! 

Dost  thou  know  what  is  coming?     In  thine  eyes, 
That  seem  to  look  afar, 
Where  God's  own  secrets  are, 

There  grows  a  kindling  wonder  and  surprise. 
Thou  art  mine  Holy  One, 
Yet,  though  high  heaven  be  won, 

I  am  thy  mother!      Smile  upon  me,  sweet, 
Here  at  thy  feet! 


THREE    CROSSES 

THERE  were  three  crosses  on  the  hill, 
Three  shadows  downward  thrown ; 

O  Mary  Mother,  heard  you  not 
The  other  mothers'  moan? 

Your  Son — he  was  the  Holy  One 

Whom  angels  comforted ; 
They  touched  his  lips  with  heavenly  wine 

In  those  dark  hours  of  dread! 

For  him  all  nature  mourned ;  the  sun 

Veiled  its  resplendent  face  ; 
Darkness  and  tumult  for  his  sake 

Filled  all  the  awful  space. 
34 


THREE    CROSSES  35 

And  you — the  sword  that  pierced  your  heart 

Grave  prophets  had  foretold ; 
You  saw  the  crown  above  the  cross, 

Clear  shining  as  of  old! 

O  Mary  Mother,  sitting  now 

Enthroned  beside  your  Son, 
You  knew  even  then  the  glorious  end 

For  which  the  deed  was  done! 

You  saw  the  ages  bending  low 

In  homage  at  his  feet ; 
You  heard  the  songs  of  triumph, 

And  the  music  piercing  sweet. 

Three  crosses  on  dark  Calvary's  hill, 

Three  awful  shadows  thrown ; 
Three  mothers,  faint  with  anguish  sore, 

Making  to  God  their  moan. 

But  they,  those  other  mothers,  who 

Bent  down  to  comfort  them? 
They  cowered  afar ;  they  had  not  dared 

To  touch  your  garment's  hem. 


36  THREE    CROSSES 

Even  if  in  mockery,  your  Son 

Was  crowned  and  hailed  as  king ; 

While  theirs — disgraced,  dishonored  they, 
Past  all  imagining! 

They  loved  like  you ;  their  sons  had  lain 

Like  yours  in  sinless  rest, 
Cradled  to  slumber,  soft  and  deep, 

On  each  fond,  faithful  breast. 

Yet  now  the  terror  and  the  shame, 

The  agony  untold, 
The  deathless  mother-love,  unquenched 

By  horrors  manifold! 

Three  crosses  on  the  dreadful  hill, 
Three  shadows  downward  thrown ; 

Mother  of  Sorrows,  thou  hast  borne 
Not  one  sharp  pang  alone! 


ON   THE    HEIGHT 

LIKE  some  great  Merlin  of  an  elder  day, 
In  robes  of  glistening  samite  clasped  with  pearl, 
White-haired,  white-bearded,  self-contained,  and  lone, 
Thy  radiant  forehead  lifted  to  the  skies, 
Majestic  in  pure  splendor,  thou  dost  sit, 
Monarch  of  mountains,  while  the  lesser  kings, — 
Only  less  kingly  than  thyself, — as  if 
In  some  high  presence-chamber,  proudly  wait, 
On  either  hand,  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
Far  in  the  kindling  west  the  globe  of  fire 
Sinks  slowly  out  of  sight.     The  rich  clouds  fade ; 
The  glory  dies  ;  earth  shivers  and  is  still. 
Behold!  thou  too  art  growing  gray  with  eld 
When  the  swift  afterglow,  like  living  flame, 
Crowns  thee  with  rubies,  wraps  thee  in  soft  robes 
Pink-white  and  tender  as  blush  roses  are, 
And  thou  art  beautiful  as  love's  young  dream! 
37 


452643 


38  ON   THE  HEIGHT 

What  though  the  fair  dream  vanish  as  it  came? 
Lo!  as  I  gaze  with  half-suspended  breath, 
The  heavens  open,  and  above  thy  brow 
Jupiter  blazes  in  the  darkening  skies, 
Brightest  of  all  thy  diadem  of  stars. 

Winter  and  silence  and  fast-gathering  night! 
Dost  thou  remember — thou  who  now  no  more 
Answerest  by  word  or  token  to  my  cry — 
Dost  thou  remember  one  fair  summer  eve, 
Long,  long  ago,  ere  winter  nights  came  down, 
When  thou  and  I  scaled  yon  far  mountain  height, 
And  climbed  its  highest  peak,  and  stood  alone, 
Hand  clasped  in  hand,  heart  beating  close  to  heart, 
Poised  between  earth  and  sky?     Beneath  us  rolled, 
Like  ocean  waves  when  all  the  winds  are  still, 
Billows  of  verdure  to  the  horizon's  verge ; 
Green,  dimpled  valleys,  interlaced  with  streams ; 
Fair  silver  lakes,  all  tremulous  with  stars ; 
And  multitudinous  mountains,  far  and  near, 
Encompassing  the  whole.     All  this  we  saw, 
Then  turned  and  saw  each  other — which  was  more! 


WHEN   SPENSER   DIED 

THUS  spake  my  Lord  of  Essex  on  the  day 
When,  after  woful  stress,  rare  Spenser  died : 
"  Now  give  ye  heed,  my  lieges!      Ye  shall  lay 
My  Spenser  forth  in  splendor  and  in  pride, 
With  rich  array  of  banners  floating  wide, 
And  pomp  of  sable  plumes,  and  scutcheons  fair. 
Let  kind  Death  yield  him  what  stern  Life  denied! 
Then  bear  him  to  the  abbey's  holy  air, 
That  he  the  sepulchre  of  buried  kings  may  share!" 

They  laid  him  forth.     Then  up  the  mighty  nave, 
Hung  with  rich  tapestries  that  to  and  fro 
Waved  softly  in  the  scented  air,  all  brave 
With  dim,  historic  splendors,  to  the  flow 
39 


40  WHEN  SPENSER  DIED 

Of  rolling  music,  tremulous  and  slow, 
With  solemn  liturgies  and  chantings  clear, 
Through  the  vast  arches  echoing  soft  and  low, 
They  bore  him  onward  to  the  silence  drear, 
While  kings  and  priests  of  song  walked  by  his  stately 
bier. 

With  tender  hands  the  velvet  pall  they  bore, 
Wrought  with  rich  arabesques  of  silver  sheen, 
Its  silver  fringes  sweeping  the  dark  floor 
Of  the  gray,  pillared  aisles  they  moved  between ; 
Nor  paused  until,  with  proud  yet  reverent  mien, 
Where  Chaucer  slept  they  lowered  him  to  his  rest ; 
Then  gently  dropped  into  the  void  unseen 
Odes,  for  spring  flowers,  to  die  upon  his  breast 
In  fragrant,  voiceless  speech,  that  still  their  love 
confessed. 

And,  ere  they  left  him  to  his  long  repose, 

Into  the  brooding  dark  each  poet  cast 

The  pen  his  verse  was  writ  with.     Ah!  who  knows? 

The  years  are  silent,  and  the  hoary  past ; 


WHEN  SPENSER  DIED  41 

And  Fame's  far  trump  hath  no  resounding  blast 
Heralding  name  or  state.     Yet  make  ye  room, 
O  mighty  shades,  for  one,  the  first  and  last 
And  mightiest  of  ye  all!      In  Spenser's  tomb 
Mayhap  our  Shakespeare's  pen  yet  lights  the  murky 
gloom ! 


LOOKING   TOWARD    SPAIN 

I  STAND  on  a  rocky  headland 
Far  out  in  the  deep  blue  main, 

And  only  its  tremulous  splendor 
Lies  between  me  and  Spain. 

Behind  me  the  pine-tree  forest, 

Singing  the  old  refrain  ; 
Before,  the  exulting  billows 

And  the  far  dreamland  of  Spain. 

On  the  red  rocks  dash  the  breakers ; 

Their  spray  is  a  blinding  rain ; 
My  hair  is  wet  with  the  sea-foam, 

But  the  wind  blows  straight  from  Spain. 
42 


LOOKING    TOWARD    SPAIN  43 

Hark  to  the  roar  and  the  tumult 
And  the  cries  like  a  soul  in  pain ! 

But  beyond  is  the  calm  and  the  silence, 
And  the  beautiful  land  of  Spain. 

Afar,  on  the  dim  horizon, 

I  watch  with  a  yearning  vain 
Yon  fair  ship  gallantly  sailing 

Straight  on  to  the  ports  of  Spain. 

And  it's  oh,  for  the  splendid  castles, 
And  the  light  on  tower  and  fane, 

And  the  mystical,  magical  glory 
Of  the  marvellous  realm  of  Spain ! 

Night  falls  on  the  rocky  headland 
As  day  and  its  splendors  wane, 

While  o'er  the  dark  waters  the  moonlight 
Is  building  a  bridge  to  Spain. 

But  I  think  with  an  infinite  longing 
Of  the  hopes  that  no  longer  reign, 

Of  the  dreams  that  are  past  fulfilment, 
Unless  on  thy  shores,  O  Spain! 


INSTALLATION    HYMN 

SING  aloud,  O  happy  voices! 

Fill  the  air  with  joyful  praise, 
While  each  grateful  heart  rejoices 

In  the  gift  that  crowns  our  days. 

Sing  for  joy,  but  let  your  singing 
To  the  heights  of  prayer  upreach ; 

To  thy  throne,  O  God,  are  winging 
Thoughts  too  vast  for  human  speech. 

Yet  for  him  whom  thou  hast  sent  us 
Now  with  yearning  hearts  we  pray ; 

Keep  thou  him  whom  thou  hast  lent  us, 
Father,  near  to  thee  alway. 

.    44 


INSTALLA  TION  HYMN  45 

When  his  heart  grows  faint  and  weary, 
Strengthen  him  with  heavenly  wine ; 

If  his  path  grows  dark  or  dreary, 
Lighten  it  with  light  divine. 

When  the  spirit,  Lord,  is  willing, 
Though  the  shrinking  heart  is  weak, 

Let  thy  voice,  all  tempests  stilling, 
Blessed  words  of  comfort  speak. 

When  he  kneels  beside  our  dying, 

When  he  lays  our  dead  away, 
In  our  anguish  and  our  crying, 

Teach  thou  him  what  words  to  say. 

When  before  thy  holy  altar 

He  shall  pour  the  sacred  wine, 
Let  his  strong  hand  never  falter, 

Holding  fast  to  hand  of  thine. 

Now  on  pastor  and  on  people, 
Lord,  thy  fullest  blessing  pour, 

While  the  bell  from  out  the  steeple 
Rings  in  peace  forevermore. 


THE   SACRAMENTAL    HYMN 

"And  when  they  had  sung  a  hymn,  they  went  out  unto  the 
Mount  of  Olives." 

OH,  to  have  heard  that  hymn 
Float  through  the  chamber  dim, 
Float  through  that  "upper  room," 
Hushed  in  the  twilight  gloom! 
Up  the  dark,  starry  skies 
Rolled  the  deep  harmonies ;  — 
Angels  who  heard  the  strain, 
How  ran  the  high  refrain? 

How  rose  the  holy  song? 
Triumphant,  clear,  and  strong, 
As  a  glad  bird  uplift 
Over  the  wild  sea-drift? 
46 


THE  SACRAMENTAL  HYMN  47 

Or  was  its  liquid  flow 
Tremulous,  sad,  and  slow — 
Presage  and  prophecy 
Of  lone  Gethsemane? 

Was  it  a  lofty  psalm, 
Foretelling  crown  and  palm? 
Soared  it  to  heights  of  prayer 
On  the  still,  vibrant  air? 
When  the  last  feast  was  spread, 
And  the  last  words  were  said, 
Sang  the  Lord  Christ  the  hymn 
In  the  old  chamber  dim? 


LESSONS   TWAIN 

JUST  two  things  you  knew, 
Little  one  who  flew 
Like  a  dove  to  heaven 
One  fair  summer  even : 
Love  and  pain.     These  two 
Held  Life's  lore  for  you! 

Child,  do  we  know  more? 
Earth  for  you  is  o'er ; 
All  that  it  hath  brought  you, 
All  that  it  hath  taught  you ; 
Lessons  twain  for  thee— 
How  much  more  know  we? 


48 


OUTLIVED 

NOT  alone  the  trembling  stars 
Glimmering  through  their  cloudy  bars ; 
Not  alone  yon  mountain  height 
Firm  in  adamantine  might ; 
Not  alone  the  rolling  seas 
Dread  with  awful  mysteries ; 
Nor  the  green  earth,  lying  fair 
Under  smiling  depths  of  air ; 
Nor  the  lofty  towers  that  man, 
Strong  to  do  and  wise  to  plan, 
Hath  reared  proudly,  stone  by  stone, 
To  the  heavens — not  these  alone 
Have  outlived  thee,  thou  whose  dust 
Earth  hath  held  in  sacred  trust, 
While  a  century  hath  shed 
Countless  blooms  above  thy  head. 
49 


50  OUTLIVED 

Thou  art  dust,  but  toys  remain 
Fragile  as  a  daisy-chain ; 
Trifles  light  as  thistle-down 
Or  the  dandelion's  crown! 
Here's  the  cup  that  held  your  wine, 
Frail  and  flower-like,  thin  and  fine ; 
Here's  the  beaker  whose  slight  rim 
Reddened  when  you  kissed  the  brim 
Here's  the  glass  that  held  your  face 
Mirrored  in  its  curving  grace ; 
Linen  wrought  with  dainty  care ; 
Laces  delicate  as  air;   . 
Letters  where  your  name  is  set, 
Holding  subtle  fragrance  yet ;  — 
Thou  art  dust,  while  toys  remain 
Fragile  as  a  daisy-chain! 


JACQUES  AND    SUZETTE 

THERE  you  sit  in  a  niche  together, 
Out  of  the  reach  of  wind  and  weather, 
Looking  down  on  a  fierce  bronze  dragon, 
A  cloisonne  vase,  and  a  gilded  flagon, 
The  opal  gleam  of  a  Venice  glass, 
A  chamois  climbing  an  Alpine  pass, 
An  ivory  boat  from  far  Japan, 
An  odorous  flask  from  Ispahan, 

And  a  host  of  things — 
Trifles  that  last  while  Life  takes  wings! 

O  chere  Suzette,  what  years  have  flown 
Since  you  and  Jacques  were  together  thrown, 
And  loved  and  quarrelled,  and  loved  again — 
The  old,  old  fate  of  dames  and  men! 


52  JACQUES  AND   SUZETTE 

But  there  you  sit  in  your  carven  shrine, 
With  never  a  thought  of  me  or  mine, 

Even  though  beset 
By  your  great-great-grandchildren,  belle  Suzette! 

Puffed  and  powdered  your  golden  hair 
Gleaming  under  the  rose  you  wear, 
One  long,  loose  curl  drooping  low 
Over  your  bosom's  tender  snow ; 
Arching  eyebrows,  and  smiling  lips 
Red  as  the  rose  the  wild  bee  sips — 

Thus,  even  yet, 
I  see  and  I  know  you,  chere  Suzette! 

White  puffed  sleeves  and  a  fall  of  lace, 

Lending  your  figure  girlish  grace ; 

Purple  bodice  that  gems  bedeck ; 

A  string  of  amethysts  round  your  neck ; 

Plenty  of  furbelows  to  show 

How  you  plumed  your  gay  wings  long  ago, 

Lady  Suzette, 
In  the  days  when  youth  and  pleasure  met. 


JACQUES  AND  SUZETTE  53 

But,  Grand-pere  Jacques,  with  your  curled  brown 

wig, 

And  your  broad  white  kerchief,  trim  and  trig, 
Out  of  which  rises  your  shaven  chin, 
With  your  delicate  lips  and  your  nostrils  thin, 
And  a  certain  self-confident,  high-bred  air, 
Smiling  and  gallant  and  debonair — 

I  wonder  yet 
If  she  made  your  heart  ache,  this  Suzette? 

Or  perhaps,  monsieur,  'twas  the  other  way ; 
For  she  was  jealous  and  you  were  gay, 
And  under  that  frill  of  falling  snow 
A  passionate  heart  beat  warm,  I  know- 
Dear  Grand-pere  Jacques,  I  doubt  if  you 
Were  undeniably  good  and  true ; 

Did  you  make  her  fret, 
Though  you  called  her  gently,  "  Ma  chere 
Suzette"? 

Ye  do  not  answer,  O  smiling  lips! 
From  the  silent  past  no  answer  slips. 


54  JACQUES  AND  SUZETTE 

Quaint  letters  more  than  a  century  old 
Hint  at  romances  that  might  be  told ; 
But  dust  and  ashes  are  all  who  knew 
How  life  fared  on  between  you  two, 

Jacques  and  Suzette, 
Or  how  its  warp  and  its  woof  were  set. 

Nay,  nay,  dear  hearts,  I  will  vex  you  not ; 
Be  your  loves,  or  glad  or  sad,  forgot! 
Keep  ye  your  secrets  an  you  will, 
Sitting  up  yonder  calm  and  still, 
Side  by  side  in  a  niche  together, 
Out  of  the  reach  of  stormy  weather, 

And  whispering  yet, 
"  Mon  ami  Jacques! "     "  Ma  chere  Suzette! " 


AT   BAR   HARBOR 

"  PEACE  be  within  thy  walls! "  the  prophet  cried 
In  far  Jerusalem  when  time  was  young ; 

O  steadfast  tower  the  changeful  sea  beside, 
What  sweeter  words  were  ever  said  or  sung! 

Peace  to  thy  walls !  I  cry  with  him  of  old ; 

Peace  that  no  storm  disturbs,  no  tempest  mars ; 
May  each  glad  morning  bring  to  thee  its  gold, 

Each  tranquil  night  its  benison  of  stars! 

And  peace  to  her,  of  this  fair  realm  the  queen, 
Who  bade  thee  rise  where  rolls  the  blue  salt  sea ; 

Give  her  thy  strength,  ye  spires  of  living  green, 
Thy  deathless  joy,  O  Ocean,  wild  and  free! 


55 


HUBERT   DE    BURGH 

"  MAKE  ready  my  war-ships,"  cried  Blanche  of  Castile  ; 
"  Make  them  stanch  and  well  ordered  from   topmast 

to  keel ; 

Then  over  the  Channel  in  haste  bid  them  dance, 
Bearing  aid  to  my  Louis,  fair  Louis  of  France!" 

There  were  eighty  good  ships,  but  with  forty  or  less 
Brave   Hubert   de  Burgh  dared  the  storm  and  the 

stress ; 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Thames  he  encountered  them  all, 
Overcame  the  proud  Frenchmen  and   held  them  in 

thrall. 

He  sent  Louis  home  with  his  lilies  all  torn, 
His  banners  all  drooping,  his  glory  all  shorn ; 
And  the  bold  English  barons  made  haste  to  declare 
That  Hubert  de  Burgh  royal  honors  should  share. 
56 


HUBERT  DE  BURGH  57 

But  alack  and  alas!   for  one  dark  day  there  rose 
A  clashing,  a  clamor,  a  tumult  of  foes, 
Crying,  "  Death  to  Earl  Hubert!      With  magical  art 
And  unholy  spells  he  hath  won  the  king's  heart! " 

Straightway  to  the  altar  then  fled  he,  and  laid 
His  hand  on  the  cross,  as  of  old  on  his  blade ; 
But  fast  his  foes  followed,  like  wolves  on  the  track, 
When  the  aisles  of  the  forest  with  shadows  are  black! 

They  stayed  not  for  candle,  for  book,  nor  for  bell, 
For  the  holy  rood's  chrism,  the  crosier's  high  spell ; 
From  the  chancel  they  dragged  him  forth  into  the 

night, 
While  the  stars  veiled  their  faces  and  fled  from  the  sight. 

With  clashing  of  broadswords  above  his  bare  head, 
They  haled  and  they  harried  him,  sorely  bestead, 
Till  they  reached  a  brown  smithy  afar  on  the  green, 
Two  pendulous,  wide-spreading  lindens  between. 

Then  they  cried  to  the  blacksmith,  with  jeer  and  with 

shout : 
"Ho,  varlet!  from  this  your  grim  fortress  come  out, 


58  HUBERT  DE  BURGH 

And  forge  us  some  fetters  both  heavy  and  strong, — 
Chain-armor  for  one  who  shall  wear  it  full  long ! " 

Forth  came  the  swart  yeoman,  and  bent  a  low  knee, 
But  not  to  that  wild  crew  obeisance  made  he! 
He  knelt  to  Earl  Hubert  and  kissed  his  cold  hand, 
Then  rose  and  confronted  the  murderous  band. 

"  If  I  forge  ye  one  bolt  for  Earl  Hubert,  who  drave 
The  French  from  our  land  and  their  ships  from  the 

wave, 

May  my  strong  arm  be  palsied,  my  hand  lose  its  skill. 
I  have  but  one  life ;  take  it  now  an  ye  will! " 

They  thundered  and  cursed,  but  unflinching  he  stood, 
As  with  courage  undaunted  he  faced  the  mad  brood ; 
And  to  every  fierce  menace  one  answer  he  gave : 
"  I  forge  ye  no  fetters  for  Hubert  the  brave! " 

No  chains  for  brave  Hubert!      The  night  wore  away. 
Birds  twittered,  mists  lifted,  the  morning  grew  gray, 
Ere,  sullenly  leaving  the  smithy's  low  door, 
To  the  Tower,  but  unfettered,  Earl  Hubert  they  bore. 


CHRISTIANA 

SHE  is  wayworn,  she  is  weary ; 

She  hath  journeyed  long  and  far, 
In  the  dawning,  and  at  noonday, 

And  beneath  the  evening  star. 

She  hath  carried  heavy  burdens ; 

She  hath  borne  another's  load ; 
She  hath  shared  her  herbs  and  lentils 

With  those  fainting  on  the  road. 

Take  her  scrip  and  loose  her  sandals ; 

Bring  cool  water  for  her  feet ; 
Lave  her  tired  limbs,  and  fold  them 

In  fair  linen,  fresh  and  sweet. 
59 


60  CHRISTIANA 

Part  the  soft  hair  on  her  forehead ; 

Lightly  touch  the  drifted  snow, 
That  was  like  the  golden  sunshine 

In  rare  summers  long  ago. 

Whisper  softly,  for  she  sleepeth! 

Lay  her  pale  hands  on  her  breast. 
Do  not  wake  her!      Lift  her  gently, 

Lest  you  break  this  perfect  rest. 

Bear  her  to  the  upper  chamber ; 

Let  the  sound  of  weeping  cease  ; 
For  it  looketh  toward  the  sunrise, 

And  the  chamber's  name  is  — Peace. 


THE    CHAMBER 

ROOM  where  I  so  oft  have  slept, 
Room  where  I  so  oft  have  wept, 
Room  wherein  my  dead  have  lain, 
Wrapped  away  from  care  and  pain, 
When  my  earthly  day  is  done, 
Burdens  dropped  and  rest  begun, 
Life  and  thought  and  being  fled— 
Who  will  love  thee  in  my  stead? 

Who  will  make  thee  fair  and  sweet, 
Bid  the  sun  thy  casements  greet, 
Open  all  thy  windows  fair 
To  the  incense-laden  air? 
From  the  garden  bring  the  rose, 
And  at  daylight's  dreamy  close 
61 


62  THE   CHAMBER 

See  the  moon's  pale  splendor  fall 
On  the  chamber's  inmost  wall? 

I  would  charm  thee,  if  I  could, 
Unto  all  that's  bright  and  good, 
For  her  sake  who  after  me 
Sometime  shall  find  rest  in  thee. 
I  would  weave  a  spell  so  rare — 
Half  a  rhyme  and  half  a  prayer — 
That  nor  grief  nor  pain  nor  sin 
Through  thy  doors  should  enter  in ! 

If  she  dreameth  maiden  dreams, 
Be  they  calm  as  sunlit  streams ; 
If  in  some  far,  golden  year 
A  young  mother  shall  lie  here 
With  a  fair  child  on  her  breast, 
Cradled  into  softest  rest, 
Lo!  I  charge  thee,  for  my  sake, 
Holy  care  of  her  to  take! 

If  some  woman,  half  dismayed, 
Here  shall  see  her  beauty  fade, 


THE   CHAMBER  63 

See  a  shadow  slowly  pass 
O'er  her  image  in  the  glass, 
Comfort  her,  I  pray  thee !      Spread 
Wings  of  peace  above  her  head ; 
Bid  thine  angels  guard  to  keep 
Over  her,  the  while  I  sleep ! 


"IN    MANUS   TUAS,    DOMINE!" 

THE  glow  has  faded  from  the  west, 
The  splendor  from  the  mountain's  crest ; 
Stern  Day's  relentless  task  is  done, 
And  Nature  rests  at  set  of  sun. 
But  ere  she  shuts  her  weary  eyes, 
Soothed  as  by  airs  of  Paradise, 
She  softly  prays  on  bended  knee, 

"In  manus  tuas,  Domine!  " 

O  silent  hours,  how  dear  ye  are ! 
There  is  no  light  of  moon  or  star ; 
The  twilight  shadows  slowly  creep 
From  rock  to  rock,  from  steep  to  steep ; 
The  trees  stand  breathless  on  the  hill, 
The  restless  winds  are  hushed  and  still ; 
Only  one  prayer  from  land  and  sea : 

"  In  manus  tuas,  Domine/  " 
64 


"IN  MANUS   TUAS,  DOMINE!"  65 

And,  O  my  soul,  be  sure  when  night 
In  God's  good  time  puts  out  the  light, 
And  draws  the  curtains  soft  and  dim 
Round  weary  head  and  heart  and  limb, 
You  will  be  glad!      But  ere  you  go 
To  sleep  that  no  rude  dreams  shall  know, 
Be  this  prayer  said  for  you  and  me : 

"In  manus  tuas,  D online!  " 


THE    CITY    CALLED    CHU 

THERE'S  a  brave  little  captain  goes  sailing 

Day  by  day  o'er  an  ocean  blue. 
"Whither  bound?  "  I  demand,  and  he  answers 

"  I  sail  for  the  city  called  Chu! " 

'Tis  a  wonderful  ship  that  he  sails  in, 
And  'tis  manned  by  a  wonderful  crew, 

But  all  tides  that  flow  bear  it  onward 
To  the  ports  of  the  city  called  Chu. 

It  hath  masts  mortal  hand  never  fashioned ; 

It  hath  sails  earthly  winds  never  blew ; 
And  its  keel  and  its  rudder  know  only 

The  way  to  the  city  called  Chu. 
66 


THE   CITY  CALLED   CHU  67 

Oh,  tell  me,  my  brave  little  captain, 

So  ready  to  dare  and  to  do, 
What  you  find  when  you  reach  the  fair  city — 

The  marvellous  city  called  Chu? 

Hath  it  temples  and  turrets  and  towers 
That  soar  to  its  skies  of  pure  blue? 

Hath  it  far-leaping  splendor  of  fountains — 
This  beautiful  city  called  Chu? 

Hath  it  mystical,  magical  rivers? 

Hath  it  roses  that  bloom  the  year  through? 
Hath  it  glamour  of  moonlight  and  starlight, 

The  love-haunted  city  called  Chu? 

Are  its  clear,  silver  bells  ever  chiming? 

Hath  it  voices  that  call  but  to  you? 
Is  there  magic  of  music  and  laughter 

In  the  halls  of  the  city  called  Chu? 

Sail  on,  oh,  sail  on,  little  captain, 

So  ready  to  dare  and  to  do. 
What  is  there  this  side  of  high  heaven 

So  fair  as  your  city  called  Chu? 


THE    DEATH-SONG   OF   THE    HEMLOCK 

YE  say  I  am  old — I  am  old;  and  ye  threaten  to  hew 

me  down, 
Lest  the  roof  of  your  puny  dwelling  should  be  crushed 

by  my  heavy  crown ; 
Ye  measure  my  spreading  branches,  ye  mock  me  with 

idle  fears !  — 
Ye  pygmies  that  creep  at  my  foot-stool,  what  know  ye 

of  age,  or  years? 

I  reckon  ye  all  as  shadows!      Ye  are  but  as  clouds 
that  pass 

Over  the  face  of  the  mountains  and  over  the  meadow- 
grass  ; 

Your  generations  are  phantoms ;  like  wraiths  they  come 
and  go, 

Leaving  no  trace  behind  them  in  the  paths  they  used 
to  know! 

68 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  THE  HEMLOCK   69 

But  I! — For  six  hundred  rolling  years  I  have  stood 
like  a  watch-tower,  I! 

I  have  counted  the  slow  procession  of  centuries  cir 
cling  by! 

I  have  looked  at  the  sun  unblenching;  I  have  num 
bered  the  midnight  stars ; 

Nor  quailed  when  the  fiery  serpent  leaped  from  its 
cloudy  bars! 

Or  ever  ye  were  a  nation,  or  your  commonwealth  was 

born, 
I  stood  on  this  breezy  hilltop,  fronting  the  hills  of 

morn, 
In  the  strength  of  my  prime  uplifting  my  head  above 

meaner  things, 
Till  only  the  strong  winds  reached  it,  or  the  wild  birds' 

sweeping  wings! 

It  was  mine  to  know  when  the  white  man  ventured 

the  unknown  seas, 
And  silence  fled  before  him,  and  the  forest  mysteries ; 


yo        THE  DEATH-SONG    OF   THE  HEMLOCK 

I  saw  his  towers  and  steeples  that  pierced  the  un- 

fathomed  sky, 
And  his  domes  that  darkened  the  heavens — but  above 

them  all  soared  I! 

He  builded  his  towns  and  cities,  and  his  mansions  fine 
and  fair, 

And  slowly  his  fertile  meadows  grew  wide  in  the  tran 
quil  air ; 

He  stretched  his  iron  pathways  from  the  mountains  to 
the  sea — 

But  little  cared  I  for  his  handiwork!  'Twas  the  one 
great  God  made  me! 

The  Earth  and  the  Sun  and  the  mighty  Winds,  and  the 

great  God  over  all, 
These  bade  me  stand  like  a  sentinel  on  the  hilltop 

grand  and  tall. 
Know  ye  that  a  hundred  years  ago  men  called  me  old 

and  worn? 
Yet  here  I  tower  above  their  graves,  and  laugh  them 

all  to  scorn! 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  THE  HEMLOCK   71 

For  what  are  threescore  years  and  ten,  ye  creatures  of 

a  day? 
Ye  are  to  me  like  the  flying  motes  that  in  the  sunshine 

play! 
Shall  I  tremble  because  ye  threaten  and  whisper  that 

I  am  old? 
I  will  die  of  my  own  free,  lordly  will,  ere  the  year  has 

shed  its  gold! 

But  till  then,  as  I  stood  or  ever  the  land  of  your  love 

was  born, 
I  will  stand  erect  on  my  hilltop,  fronting  the  hills  of 

morn, 
In   the  pride  of  mine  age  uplifting  my  head  above 

meaner  things, 
Till  only  the  strong  winds  reach  it,  or  the  wild  birds' 

sweeping  wings! 


FOR   A   CHRISTENING 

BLOW  softly,  winds  of  the  South ! 

Skies  of  the  South,  bend  low ! 
Sparkle,  ye  radiant  waters, 

In  the  sunset's  tender  glow! 

Keep  watch  and  ward,  O  palm-trees! 

Oaks,  spread  your  branches  wide! 
O  sentinel  pine-trees,  let  your  strength 

Like  the  strength  of  the  hills  abide! 

Disks  of  the  Cherokee  roses, 
Gleam  from  your  emerald  bars! 

O  jasmines,  swing  your  censers 
In  the  light  of  your  golden  stars! 


FOR  A    CHRISTENING  73 

Fill  the  air,  ye  joyous  wild  birds, 

With  a  glad,  sweet  roundelay, 
For  a  little  child  is  given 

To  the  Lord  Christ  to-day! 


Ah,  what  shall  I  bring  to  thee, 
Child,  who  shall  bear  my  name 

When  I  shall  lie  unheeding 
Or  love  or  praise  or  blame ; 

Who  shall  speak  when  I  am  silent ; 

Who,  when  I  lie  deaf,  shall  hear 
This  dear  earth's  song  of  triumph, 

And  its  hymns  of  lofty  cheer ; 

Who  shall  see  my  roses  bloom, 
And  my  snow-white  lilies  gleam, 

In  the  sunlight  and  the  starlight, 
When  I  sleep  without  a  dream? 

Nay,  little  child,  forgive  me, 
Nor  think  the  strain  too  sad ; 


74  FOR  A    CHRISTENING 

One  life  must  follow  another, 
But  earth  shall  still  be  glad ! 

Evening  must  follow  morning ; 

But  the  morn  shall  still  be  gay 
With  splendor  of  rose  and  purple, 

And  the  pomp  of  glorious  day! 

And  had  I  the  mystic  token, 
I  would  weave  a  spell  so  rare, 

It  should  be  like  a  holy  talisman, 
Strong  with  the  strength  of  prayer, 

To  charm  thee  from  every  sorrow, 
To  keep  thee  from  every  ill, 

And  with  costliest  wine  of  blessing 
Thy  waiting  cup  to  fill! 


THE    DREAM-BEARER 

(Suggested   by    Ross    Turner's    water-color,  "The    Golden 
Galleon.") 

FROM  what  far  wonderland  of  dreams, 

What  island  of  remotest  seas, 
O  Golden  Galleon,  sailest  thou 

With  white  wings  on  the  breeze? 

Thou  stately  splendor,  pressing  on 
From  mystic  East  to  radiant  West, 

On  what  proud  errand  art  thou  bent — 
What  high,  mysterious  quest? 

The  great  sea  bears  thee  up  ;  the  waves 
With  slow  upheaval  lift  thy  bow ; 

With  long  and  steady  sweep  they  glide 
Under  thy  gleaming  prow. 

75 


76  THE  DREAM-BEARER 

Thy  slender  masts,  like  spires  of  jet, 
Are  black  against  the  reddening  sky ; 

Thy  sails  are  full — yet  idly  droops 
Yon  pennant  lifted  high. 

All  silently  thou  speedest  on  ; 

No  sailor  climbs  thy  shining  spars ; 
Thy  carven  saints  alone  keep  ward 

Beneath  or  sun  or  stars! 

O  Golden  Galleon,  well  we  know 

Thou  hast  no  freight  of  earthly  mould ; 

No  Orient  treasures  dost  thou  bear, 
No  red  gold  lights  thy  hold! 

Thou  art  but  freighted  with  our  dreams! 

Sail  on,  O  blessed  ship,  sail  on, 
To  some  far  land  where  dreams  come  true, 

And  all  that's  lost  is  won! 


THE    SECRET    CHAMBER 

INTO  the  secret  chamber  of  my  heart, 

Wherein  no  mortal  enters,  Lord,  come  thou 
And  make  thy  dwelling-place  ere  day  depart ! 

Even  now  the  clouds  are  golden  in  the  west ; 

The  long,  slant  shadows  creep  across  the  way  ; 
The  glory  fades  on  yonder  mountain-crest. 

It  will  be  nightfall  soon,  for  faint  and  far 

The  pallid  moon,  a  silver  crescent,  hangs 
Above  the  low  reach  of  the  horizon  bar. 


And  night  is  lonely  and  beset  with  fears ! 

Come  thou,  O  Lord,  come  in  and  dwell  with  me 
Through  the  long  darkness  till  the  dawn  appears! 

77 


78  THE   SECRET  CHAMBER 

O  thou  who  didst  create  the  human  heart, 

Didst  thou  not  make  one  sure  place  for  thyself  ? 
It  is  high  sanctuary  where  thou  art! 

Thou  knowest,  ah!  thou  knowest!      Words  are  weak. 

When  the  tongue  falters  and  the  lips  are  dumb, 
Thou  knowest  all  the  yearning  heart  would  speak! 

The  unuttered  prayer  thou  hearest.    Lo!  the  shrine 

Waits  for  thy  presence!      Ere  the  day  be  done 
Take  thou  possession,  O  thou  Guest  Divine! 


"OUT   OF   THE    SILENCE,   SPEAK!" 

OUT  of  the  silence,  speak! 

Could  you  come  through  the  waiting  door, 
With  your  eyes  aglow  and  your  heart  on  fire, 

As  in  days  that  are  no  more ; 
Could  you  enter  the  wide  old  hall, 

And  the  chambers  fresh  and  fair, 
And  wander  from  room  to  room 

In  the  sweet,  flower-scented  air; 
Could  you  tread  the  garden  paths 

Where  your  own  white  lilies  grow, 
And  the  rose  you  planted  blooms 

As  in  Junes  of  long  ago — 
Would  you  be  glad  to  come 

Back  to  the  world  of  men, 
Back  to  your  wonted  place 

In  its  busy  ranks  again? 


8o  "  OUT  OF   THE  SILENCE,    SPEAK!" 

Out  of  the  shadows,  speak! 

O  tender  heart  and  true, 
Could  you  return,  return, 

All  would  be  changed  for  you ! 
For  others  sit  at  your  board, 

And  others  warm  at  your  fire, 
And  over  your  walls  strange  shadows  flit 

As  the  flames  leap  high  and  higher. 
The  boys  that  you  knew  are  bearded  men, 

And  the  bearded  men  are  gray, 
And  the  weight  of  years  has  touched  them  all- 

You  would  know  them  not  to-day! 
There  are  children  born  of  your  line 

To  whom  you  are  but  a  name — 
A  name,  a  dream,  and  a  shadow, 

A  phantom  they  scarce  can  claim. 

Out  of  the  glory,  speak! 

From  your  bright  heaven  afar, 
Where  you  need  no  light  of  sun, 

Nor  ray  of  moon  or  star, 


"  OUT  OF   THE  SILENCE,    SPEAK!"  81 

Would  you  come  to  earth  if  you  could 

To  face  the  changes  here, 
The  sense  of  a  strange  new  world 

With  its  alien  atmosphere? 
For  lo !  as  the  Century  dies 

It  spreadeth  its  mighty  hands, 
And  a  change  comes  over  the  deep, 

And  over  the  waiting  lands, 
As  the  youngest  born  of  the  nations 

Lifts  Destiny's  proud  gauge, 
Accepting,  for  weal  or  woe, 

Life's  lofty  heritage! 

Out  of  the  glory,  speak! 

As  your  changeless  years  roll  on, 
Would  ye  return  if  ye  could, 

O  ye  who  have  lost  and  won? 


AFTER  MANY   DAYS 

I  SIT  beside  my  flying  loom, 

I  toss  the  shuttle  to  and  fro ; 
The  sunlight  floods  the  quiet  room, 

Making  the  pattern  gleam  and  glow. 
Without,  autumnal  glories  shine ; 

Through  warp  and  woof  rich  shadows  play. 
Would  God  it  were  more  fair  and  fine, 

This  web  that  groweth  day  by  day ! 

I  weave  and  weave  till  day  is  done ; 

But  who  will  bleach  the  linen  white, 
By  alchemy  of  rain  and  sun, 

Hot  summer  noons,  and  dewy  night? 
And  who  its  shining  length  will  wear? 

Under  its  folds  what  heart  will  hide 
Its  stress  of  passion  or  of  prayer, 

Of  wordless  bliss  or  love  denied? 
82 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS  83 

I  plant  a  tree  beside  my  gate ; 

Slowly  it  rises,  fair  and  tall ; 
With  prophecy  of  royal  state 

It  towers  above  the  old  gray  wall! 
But  who  will  see  it  in  its  prime? 

What  lovers  seek  its  leafy  ways? 
What  bard  unborn,  with  song  and  rhyme, 

Wed  its  green  boughs  to  deathless  lays? 

I  build  a  mansion  wide  and  fair ; 

I  rear  its  towers  of  fretted  stone ; 
But  who  shall  breathe  its  happy  air? 

Who  call  its  sheltering  roof  his  own  ? 
What  guests  shall  throng  its  chambers  fine? 

What  feet  youth's  joyous  measures  tread, 
When  I  have  drained  life's  last  fed  wine, 

And  grass  grows  green  above  my  head? 

On  the  soft  air  I  loose  a  song  ; 

From  pole  to  pole  it  drifteth  far ; 
It  floateth  fast,  it  floateth  long, 

Inconsequent  as  breezes  are! 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS 

But  who  will  hear  it  as  it  flies 

Through  shadowy  spaces,  vast  and  dim, 
And  lure  it  from  the  lonely  skies, 

When  I  have  done  with  song  and  hymn? 


ISJTY  of 


GELE3 
-5BRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9 — 15m-10,'48(B1039)444 


1547 
A25 


Dnrr- 

After clow. 


1900 


PS 

1547 
A25 
1900 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000035778    o 


